


See Who I Am

by AgentCatt



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M, Past MaineWash, all tags to be updated as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:43:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCatt/pseuds/AgentCatt
Summary: During the fight at the radio jammer, Locus' teleportation grenade malfunctions at the worst time possible. It send both him and Wash back to the MOI. Why would it do that? Is it all some sort of test?





	1. Chapter 1

“You used to be so much more,” rings through the air. Neither are hitting a single one of their shots. It’s just a game of cat and mouse.

“You were once an enemy to these men. You were ruthless. You were a survivor,” Locus calls out as Wash is trying to find him.

“I was a different person,” Wash says quietly. He knows what he was. He could never forget that.

“No, you were a soldier.”

“You say that like they’re two different things,” Wash turns around to check his six.

“When a true soldier is told to kill, he kills. He does not question why. He does not mourn the fallen. He fulfills his role, and moves onto the next.”

“Is that what you want to be? A true soldier?” Wash is finding out more than he thought he would. 

“No, that is what I am.” Locus opens fire again as Wash just barely gets out of the line of fire. When he comes out again, he doesn’t see Locus. “I’m a professional, Agent Washington. I comp-”

“Yeah, yeah. You complete your missions at all costs. You can say that all you want, but I know who you really are. You’re a coward.”

“Ridiculous.” 

“You keep trying to play yourself off as some sort of weapon. That you don’t care about anyone or anything. But the fact that you’re trying to understand me breaks your entire act. No matter how hard you may want to be a machine, you’re not. You’re a murderer. But you hide behind the idea in your head because you’re too afraid to take responsibility for what you have done. I know I used to be a real piece of shit, but at least I’m trying to do something about it.” 

Locus attacks Wash from behind, but before he can get more than one hit out, they are teleported somewhere by the teleportation grenade in Locus’ pocket. The distraction gives Wash enough time to kick Locus off of him. Wash moves as far away as he can. Locus gets ready to make a move.

“Timeout!” Wash calls, holding up his hands. Locus stops, confused. He notices Wash is looking around. He does the same.

“Where are we?” Locus asks. They’re in a small room with one cot, some clothes on the ground, and a safe in the corner. 

“It felt like we teleported,” Wash states. He stares at the clothes. They’re his colors. 

Locus searches himself for the teleportation grenade he has on himself. Er, more like, had. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“So it malfunctioned and sent us here,” Wash turns his attention to the safe.

“Yes, but where is here?” 

“I have an idea where we are, but I’m hoping I’m wrong.”

“Where?”

Wash slowly takes off his helmet and his right glove.  _ 3-18-39  _ Wash mentally tells himself. He takes a deep breath and puts in the combination. When the combination is put in correctly, a thumb pad comes up.

“How do you-” Locus starts to ask. He’s cut off when the safe opens from Wash’s touch.

Wash takes out this journal from the safe and leans against the wall. He slowly opens to the first entry and begins to read aloud, knowing nothing bad will be said.

_ “I was given this journal from the Counselor and frankly, I don’t understand why. He said all of us Freelancers do it. So I just rolled my eyes and took it. I’m supposed to write what I feel or what’s going on that I want to get out. I find this all too stupid, but might as well get used to this. _

 

_ They gave me a new name. Said I’m never allowed to say my old name while in the project. Not even supposed to write it down. That’s okay. I kinda like my new name better. It has Agent in front of it. Makes me seem important. But I don’t understand the named after states thing. Though, I admit my name sounds really cool said out loud. Agent Washington. I could get used to that. I like saying it. It’s like a new beginning. A fresh start.  _

 

_ I get to meet the other agents tomorrow. It’s exciting, I guess. Here’s to new beginnings and hoping I find a home here.”  _

Wash turns to see when the last entry was made. “The last entry was made yesterday. Two months after the first entry.”

“So, this is Project Freelancer?” Locus asks.

Wash looks up at him. “Welcome to the Mother of Invention, Locus.”


	2. Chapter 2

Wash forces himself to get up. He grabs his helmet, seeing no reason to really put it on right now.

“Locus, I need a truce from you,” Wash holds out his hand to him. 

Locus looks at him for a long moment before taking the hand and getting up. “Fine. What now?”

“Now we go find the Director and ask for a room to stay in and access to the training room, then figure out how to get back. When we get back, you can go back to beating my ass.”

Wash puts his hand on the doorknob for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening it. Wash takes a left, occasionally making sure Locus is still there with him. A left, another left, maaaaybe a right? Uh, where is everyone and how do they get to the director?

“I’ll be honest,” Wash stops at an intersection. “I don’t know where we are.”

“You were on this ship for how many years and can’t find your way?” Locus questions.

“Oh shut up. I didn’t travel the hallways much. I travelled through the vents, okay?!” Locus shifts slightly and Wash catches it. “Hey, don’t judge me. It’s a great way to stay away from a lot of people.”

Speaking of staying away from people, Wash takes another right. When he gets to the end of the hallway to make the only turn he could, he runs into someone. Literally. He takes a step back to realize who it is, raising his gun at his old friend York.

York is the first to lower his weapon. “Wash? Aren’t you supposed to be out on a mission?” 

“Not your Wash. Take us to the Director. Now.”

Locus makes Wash slowly lower his weapon. 

“You look different and who’s this.” 

“I said, take us to the Director. Now, York.” 

“Fine. You could at least explain your looks and who your friend is.” York begins to lead the way to the main deck where the Director is.

“He’s not my friend and you don’t need to know the rest.” 

Locus studies Wash. The way his hand is still hovering around his pistol, ready to shoot if he needs to. The way Wash seems almost angry with the whole situation. He told the other that they’re not friends. That was the only information he’d give. Surprised he even told that much.

York keeps trying to ask questions, but Wash won’t answer any of them. He just keeps following behind him with Locus next to him. Surprised Locus hasn’t actually tried anything yet.

York stops abruptly. “Here. When you’re done, you owe me an explanation.” 

“I owe you nothing,” Wash takes ahold of Locus’ armor and pulls him along into the room.

Wash lets go of Locus and takes a deep breath. He sees the Director alive and well with the Counselor. The dreaded person he hates more than the Director himself. Locus just looks around the room, taking in everything he can see. It’s good knowledge for later.

Wash moves forward a little and clears his throat. “Director, I have something to ask of you.”

The Director and the Counselor look up from what they were doing to see Wash standing there and Locus standing slightly behind him.

“Who are you?” the Director asks first.

Wash then remembers that he’s not wearing his helmet, so he’s not  _ that  _ recognizable right now. 

“Agent Washington, sir. And this is my,” Wash pauses trying to find a word to fit Locus without giving much away, “acquaintance, Locus.” 

“Shouldn’t you be-” the Counselor begins, but is cut off.

“Oh come on. I look older and my helmet’s off. This is a dead giveaway that I’m not your current Agent.” Wash takes a deep breath to calm himself. “We need a room to stay in, access to the training room, mess hall, and everything else until we can figure out how to get back to our time.”

“And why should we give you any of that?” the Director asks.

“What he means is-” Wash cuts off the Counselor again.

“I know what he means. Don’t speak for him.” Wash turns more to face the Director. “Because we have nowhere else to go. You have to trust me. We won’t mess with your program.”

The Director and Counselor talk amongst themselves. 

Locus leans down slightly to whisper, “Says the one that almost shot one of their agents.”

“Shut up. They don’t need to know that.” 

Locus rolls his eyes and stands straight. Wash starts to sway side to side, getting frustrated that it’s taking them so long to answer. It’s when they finally turn back to the two that Wash stops fidgeting. 

“We have decided.” The Director starts, but Counselor takes over for him, as usual. Even after Wash told him not to do that.

“We will allow you to stay. You will be closely monitored.” he holds out a piece of paper. “This is everything to access anything you need and tells you where your room is.”

“Thanks,” Wash takes the paper. 

Wash turns to head out. Locus has no choice but to follow behind him. He’s trying to read what’s all on the paper, but Wash lowers it. Wash was expecting York to still be out here, waiting with a million more questions, but he’s not. Thankfully.

“They have you logging in as Agent Louisiana,” Wash finally talks. “I get to double as Agent Georgia.” Wash silently laughs to himself. 

“Why those?” Locus asks.

“Because no one is using those names at the moment, so it makes it an easy way to keep track of us and when we log into any of the system.”

“Ah.”

They go silent as Wash makes their way back to the rooms. He can find his way now that he just has to retrace his steps. It doesn’t take them long to get to the right room without running into anyone else.

“So, rules. Don’t mess with any of the other agents. Including younger me. Also, stay with me so I can keep an eye on you.” Wash throws his helmet on the bed to the right of the door, claiming it as his own. “That way nothing happens to the future.”

“I won’t do anything irrational.”

“Good-” Wash sees Locus go invisible. He quickly looks out the door, calling for Locus to come back, but there is no sign of him.

Wash takes in a deep breath and slowly lets it out. He sits on the bed, frustrated. He doesn’t want to be here. Nonetheless with his enemy that could easily kill him or his younger self at any moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient. I don't expect the next chapter out any time soon, unless I get a burst of energy and inspiration for the next chapter.   
> Thanks for the read! <3


	3. Chapter 3

Wash, more or less, has been staying in the room for as long as he can. He only, really, comes out to go shower and use the bathroom. Even then, he waits until the dead of night to do any of that. He hasn’t eaten since they got there. He feels like he’ll throw up if he does. It’s been three days. He can handle it… 

Staying in the room has made it easier for him to control his mind. To keep the  _ other  _ memories at bay. Keeping him who he is. Not them.

Worrying about the others. How much time has passed there in just the three days they’ve been here. Coming to grips that there is no plausible way to get back, that he can think of. It was from a teleportation grenade. They don’t have these here. At least, not from what Wash knows. So, how is there any way to get back? This would be easier if Wash had Locus here to bounce ideas off of.

 

Locus has been watching both younger Wash and  _ his  _ Wash, so to speak. He stays out of sight. Accessing everything he needs at night when no one is really around to see him. Whether it’s standing in the kitchen eating something, showering, or using the training room.

He’s noticed that younger Wash doesn’t hang out with those on the leaderboard too often. He’s not even on that board though. At most he’ll spend time with Maine, but then again they are roommates now. 

It’s interesting. Younger Wash is nothing like he’d imagined. He’s childish at times. Who the fuck uses a bendy straw? He eats inside his helmet all the time? Come to think of it, he hasn’t seen younger Wash out of his helmet. His Wash’s comment on having his helmet off as a dead giveaway is making more sense now.

One of the days, he wears Maine’s hoodie. The way it’s too big for him. Other times he wears his own that has cats on it. Or at least a shirt with cats on it.

Locus stands in the middle of the kitchen, eating a sandwich, pondering over everything he’s seen so far. His helmet sits on the counter, staring at him. 

Part of him keeps coming back to the thought that any moment he could hear Felix’s voice come through his radio. To tell him how to deal with this situation. There’s no protocol for any of this. Then he remembers all he has is his Wash. 

He finishes his sandwich, then gets everything back out to make another one. He doesn’t know exactly what Wash will want on his, but he makes a generic sandwich anyways. He cuts it in half before wrapping it in some foil he found.

Locus grabs his helmet, putting it on before heading out to the room. He quietly gets there. Knowing Wash should probably be asleep. He doubts himself for a second, but just heads inside. 

The door opens without a sound. He shuts it enough to keep too much light from coming in. He sets the sandwich on the table next to Wash’s bed. He stands there for a moment, staring at Wash, thinking. He doesn’t understand what his thoughts are about. He doesn’t know why he made Wash a sandwich and brought it to him. 

His thoughts are interrupted when Wash moves ever so slightly. He rapidly leaves the room, but quietly closes the door.

 

Wash only slept for about an hour and a half before waking up again. Annoyed, he rolls over onto his back with a heavy sigh. He stretches before sitting up. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he notices the foil wrapped sandwich.

“Really?” Wash sighs. He picks it up and unwraps it. “Thanks Locus.” 

He frowns at the sandwich for a moment. Mentally psyching himself up to eat it and not throw it up. He counts it as a little victory when it doesn’t come back up in chunks.

The sandwich makes him realize that Locus has actually been keeping an eye on him. Just from afar. Or he’s invisible in the room. Either way, it was thoughtful and made him realize he should probably start going out of the room more. As much as he rather not. He needs to eat and the fact that he kept the sandwich down, means he should be able to keep any other food down as well.

He sits there, thinking about what he’s going to do when he runs into the others. Just ignore them mostly. Hopefully. But they’ll try to talk to him. They won’t know his face, but they’ll still ask him questions. If he’s lucky he won’t run into his younger self.

When it comes time for breakfast, he just goes at a time. He can’t remember when everyone used to come in to eat, but whatever. He’ll deal with it. He won’t get angry. He has to tell himself that multiple times before actually opening the door and heading out. 

He stole some sweat pants and a shirt from his younger self’s locker. Surprised they fit since he thought he lost a lot of weight. 

Wash gets to the mess hall and is relieved to see no one there. He knows that won’t last long. He gets his food and sits in the far corner with his back against the wall. So he can see everyone coming in and no one can sneak up on him.

One by one, they keep filing in. Loudly. He keeps his head down a bit. The only one that really should recognize his face is himself and Maine. He’s starting to feel sick again. He makes himself slowly breathe to calm his stomach. It works until York notices him and decides to go over to where he’s sitting.

“Where’s your friend?” York asks, sitting across from him.

“He’s not my friend. And none of your business,” Wash silently sighs to himself. He shouldn’t have left his room. Add this to the long list of regrets.

“Why don’t you come sit with us?” 

Wash looks up at him finally. He’s still got his eye. He’s okay. Just his plain old self. Wash pushes his tray away from him. He can’t eat more. He can’t. Shit’s going to go downhill sometime soon. He can’t remember how long it took before. Why does he have to go through all this again? Only good thing is he won’t be getting an A.I. just his younger self to get him to where he is today.

“Why would I sit with you?” Wash coldly asks. They were never really a team. They only fended for themselves. Especially there in the end. Nobody came back for him. Nobody.

“What happens with us in the future that makes you not want to be around us?” 

Wash doesn’t bother answering. He just gets up, leaving the tray. He doesn’t get far before York gets up and grabs his wrist.

“Don’t touch me!” Wash says a little too loud. He pulls his wrist away, taking a step back. That got the attention of the others. He needs to get out of there. Right now.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” York sounds more sincere than he remembers. And concerned. Why is he concerned? He used to only care about himself, right? 

“I have to go,” Wash puts his head down and starts to walk out, but is stopped by the others. He doesn’t want to say anything to them.

“Who are you?” South asks, standing directly in his way.

His throat is dry. He can’t form words. Not like he’d want to tell them anyways. They wouldn’t really care about the situation. 

“She asked you a question,” CT speaks up.

North must’ve noticed his heavy breathing because he gets up and tells them to back off. “Do you want to tell me? Are you a new recruit?” 

Wash just shakes his head. He owes them no explanation. Not after the bullshit they showed him in return back then.

“So, you’re not a new recruit then what are you?” North asks. He sounds so motherly. He remembers North being the mother hen of the group, but not this kind. At least not in this type of situation.

York walks over. Wash covers his mouth before he can say anything about who he is. Wash glares at him, hoping he knows that means not to say anything. ork is probably going to eventually tell the others who he is, but as long as he’s not around, he doesn’t care. 

His younger self was staring at him, but that was it. He knows that he won’t tell the others for sake of never showing his face. Wash doesn’t want to listen to them anymore. 

He manages to slip past them without being held back. Wash runs the entire way back to his room. He slams the door shut and flops onto the bed, thinking about everything that just happened. Something’s wrong. They’re not completely like he remembers.

 

Locus watched the entire encounter from afar. He finds it strange how Wash just starts to shut down. He can’t quite figure out what’s wrong. A small part of him wanted to chase after Wash when he runs out, but doesn’t. He pushes that thought aside and continues to observe everyone else.

They’re talking amongst themselves. Agent New York told them who that was. It’s fascinating that younger Wash just sinks into his seat. Curious. He makes a mental note to maybe ask his Wash about it. To maybe explain why that just happened. 

After a bit, he heads out to go back to where he hides during the day. He walks past their room, almost wanting to go in there and ask Wash if he’s okay. He growls to himself, slightly shaking his head to get the thought out of his mind. Just keep walking. Not like Wash sees him as someone he’d like to be around.

Forgetting he isn’t cloaked, Locus continues on until he runs into Agent Maine. Not like he imagined at all. Bald head. Slightly taller than himself. Maine is a little confused about Locus. He grunts at him. 

“No,” he wishes he was cloaked. “I’m not a new recruit.” 

Maine makes a few growls at Locus.

“No. I’m just here for a little while before heading... home.” 

Maine grunts quietly then shrugs and continues on his way without saying anymore. Locus cloaks himself and heads in the direction he was going. Then it hits him. Maine never spoke actual words, yet he understood that perfectly.


	4. Chapter 4

Locus is alone as usual. He’s decided that it’d be a good idea to keep journal logs. Mostly because it’d be good to document everything he sees happening, right? Analyze it when they get back.

 

_ Day 10. _

_ It’s fascinating watching the two Agents. How they react around the other Agents. How they are alike, yet show vast differences.  _

_ Younger Washington is more careless, free. He jokes a lot with his fellow Agents. I have seen him on the training floor once and he’s not the best Freelancer here. How he made it on the list to begin with is beyond my comprehension. He’s not a soldier. Not like I thought he’d be. _

_ Older Washington stays in the room most of the time. He tries to not interact with the others. After the incident with the group of Agents, something seems  _ off  _ about him. When another tried to go up to him, he backed up from them. As if he thought they were going to… hurt him? There was never anything wrong, though? It’s like it was a knee jerk reaction…. _

_ I don’t understand him. I don’t understand why. The reports are much different than actually being here. _

_ I will do some further investigations. _

 

Locus takes off his helmet when he finishes recording the entry. He’s been doing that more often; taking off his helmet. Something about having it on feels… odd. It feels like he shouldn’t have any armor on at all. There’s no reason to feel this way, but he does. It is easier to read documents than with the helmet on, so there’s that.

He misses Felix to a degree. Would never mention that in a log. He doesn’t know how to word it to be able to actually mention it. Just sitting here waiting for an order that will never come from him. He knows this by now. It’s been long enough that he stops hoping for any sign of heading back. Instead, he’s trying to find answers. 

After hours, he heads to the lab to continue his search for answers, but there’s no such thing as actual teleportation like they have in the future. Like back home. Nothing. It’s frustrating. Locus wishes he knew more about the technology, but the two mercenaries had nothing to do with it. It was all the science team provided by Control.

Pissed off for the time being, Locus kicks the side of a filing cabinet. He then runs his hands through his hair. He wonders when is the actual time anyone starts working on teleportation. If they have the ability to stop time for a small periods of time, then why isn’t there teleportation?

Locus just sighs and grabs his helmet, leaving the lab. He’s given up on the recreation of a teleportation grenade to get them back. Fuck it. Maybe there’s another way they could find back. But what could that be?

He stands outside the door to his and Wash’s room. Part of him wants to go in and ask every question he has on his mind. Like about the differences in the two. Or how about why the younger Washington is like  _ that. _ Just the way he eats with his helmet on. Steals Maine’s hoodies. Are they together or something? Occasionally he carries around a stuffed teddy bear. What’s that about?

Why does his Wash shy away from everyone in the Project? Why is he so upset to be here? Wouldn’t he be happy to be back with the ones he used to be with all the time? Before they all died, that is. The other Agents seem like they truly want to know what happened to him and about what happens in the future. 

Locus backs away from the door. It’s better to just not start anything. Even though Wash thanks him for bringing nightly sandwiches, he still curses him out for not staying with him. Locus just can’t seem to bring himself to follow that one order. There’s something off about it. He just can’t figure out what exactly.

So, he heads to the training room. No one is scheduled for another four hours. He sets his armor neatly on the ground near the access panel. He punches in younger Wash’s code to gain access to the training rooms full potential.

It feels more natural to be out of armor here. Especially since Felix isn’t around to say anything about it. Isn’t around to harass him for how big and bulky he is. He’s on alert still, but feels more relaxed. It feels like he doesn’t have to hide behind the mask he carries with him everywhere.

He uses the green circles for training, listening to F.I.L.S.S. tell him his improvement score each time he completes it.

He goes at it for an hour, stewing in his own mind. He loses focus, miscalculating a step or two that makes him fumble to his knees rather than falling onto his ass. He made it look intentional (but it really wasn’t). He punches at the ground, then tells F.I.L.S.S. to end the session. He’s done for today. Fuck this.

Locus gathers his suit and takes it to the locker room. Setting it on one of the benches closer to the showers. He sighs and gets into the showers. Standing there, forcing himself to relax the best he can. 

He’s thinking about being there and how to get back, but somehow ends up thinking about Wash again. Which isn’t unusual for him, but, the timing.

His mind still dwells on the soldier. He’s seen part of Wash’s missions. He doesn’t always follow orders. He’s not a soldier like he thought he was. Locus is still trying to make him the soldier he  _ thought  _ he was, but his mind keeps circling back to the fact Wash is always injured. Or always called out by the Director for disobeying some type of order. There’s just something about that.

Then his mind wanders away from Wash and to Felix. It’s quiet without him. Well, quiet as in Felix isn’t around to constantly complain. As much as Locus wanted to Felix to shut up, it feels wrong to not have him talking by his side. It feels wrong to be alone like this.

Something’s missing.

 

Wash knows that Locus is around, watching him, so he makes a point to say things out loud. He mostly just says how much Locus is a jackass for not listening. That a soldier would’ve followed that order. Anything to take a jab at him, hoping he’ll hear and listen to the god damn order. But there’s no luck. Not yet at least.

He’s also counting the days. Day ten. It’s been a week since he first made it known to the others that he’s there. He’s still not over the fact that everything seems fake. It seems like everyone is acting the way they are to poke fun at him. Even though he’s not  _ their  _ Wash. Something’s completely wrong here and it’d be easier if Locus was there to keep him grounded.

They try to be helpful to him, but there has to be some underlying agenda. They’re going to do something to him. 

Just this afternoon, Wash ran into North while trying to sneak food out of the cafeteria. It was awkward. North asked if he wanted to join him and York later since younger Wash was out with CT and Maine again. He declined and said he was busy. No specifics. North let it slide, but told him that there’s always room for him to join them. That he doesn’t have to worry about anything. They’re willing to help solve the problem so him and Locus can get back to their own time.

Wash doesn’t buy it at all. They would never help with something like that. They’re selfish and only care about themselves. Only care about the leader board. They never did care about Wash before when he needed help with something. Did they? He just keeps questioning his memory about it all. What if his memory is wrong? What if they’re actually good people? If so, how did his memory get this skewed? 

Epsilon created false memories that aren’t his in his brain, but it didn’t alter the memories he already had. Did it? It doesn’t feel like it did. Could the Counsellor have anything to do with it? And the two year psych stay with him before joining Recovery One? He couldn’t just ask the Counsellor. He wouldn’t know right now anyways. It could give him ideas. That wouldn’t be a good idea.

Wash is left to ponder his thoughts. Trying to figure things out. Until he gives himself a headache from thinking too much about it. So, he quietly leaves the room to slowly make his way down to the labs. He knows very little about technology, other than what they taught him in the Project. He’s going to ask them about teleportation. Surely they would know something.

When he gets there, someone is complaining about how things are moved at night when no one’s there. How this morning they found one of their filing cabinets moved from its original spot. That it will probably happen again tonight. Wash knew immediately that it’s Locus that did it, but why? Did he have the same idea Wash did, but didn’t come to talk to anyone? Did he find anything vital to getting back home? Too many questions and not enough answers.

“May I help you?” one of the lab techs rudely acknowledges Wash.

“I had a question from the Director. He told me to come down here and ask someone about the teleportation research you’ve been doing,” Wash confidently states.

“Tele- is the Director drunk? We have no research on teleportation,” the guy rolls his eyes. “Is this some prank? He’s sent someone down here like this before asking about wacky things.” 

“No. The Director seemed very adimate about it, but I will tell him otherwise,” Wash starts to leave. The guy just scoffs and doesn’t bother trying to stop him. 

Once Wash is back in the room, he sits on the bed. How could there be no teleportation research out there yet? Why isn’t it a thing? Well, there could be some research done in private, but if so, then who is funding it? 

Why didn’t Locus tell him this? Was he going to leave him in the dark forever? Wash at least thought that if Locus found out any information on getting back that he’d come to him. But nooooooo. That’s not the case apparently.

Now how are they going to get back? There’s no other options unless they wait years for the research to become available to them. If that’s the case, Wash can’t stay here. He can’t stay on this ship. Next time the Agents are given some sort of leave, he’s going with them. He doesn’t care if Locus comes with him, then. He can’t stay here. He refuses to stay here.


End file.
